Chapter 43: Shadows in the Forest
During Charms class on Monday morning, Solim took one look at Draco's ashen face and knew the previous night's shock had not faded.
After class, Draco lingered at the back of the crowd with Solim as they headed for Herbology. He knew he wouldn't sleep peacefully until he understood the nature of the shadow he had witnessed.
Despite Solim's warning, Draco had been unprepared for the reality of his detention. Being sent into the Forbidden Forest after curfew to hunt for an injured unicorn was beyond his worst expectations. Unlike Harry or Ron, Draco understood the terrifying implication: only a powerful and desperate creature—or wizard—could harm a unicorn. He had even invoked his father's name in a futile protest to Hagrid, but it was no use.
The Forbidden Forest was a place of oppressive darkness even by day. By night, it was a labyrinth of shadows. The feeble light from his wand did little to pierce the gloom, and he lost count of how many times he stumbled over roots or was lashed by unseen branches. The uneven ground was a constant trap for his feet.
Hagrid had assigned Draco to a group with Harry and his dog, Fang, while Hagrid himself went with Ron. Their "search" was a nerve-wracking, clumsy affair, spent mostly staring at the ground to avoid tripping, with little attention to spare for the lurking dangers in the surrounding blackness.
But trouble found them nonetheless. They stumbled into a clearing and found the unicorn, its body gleaming a deathly silver in the patchy moonlight, its lifeblood pooling darkly around it. As Draco and Harry fumbled for their wands to send up the green sparks, a cloaked figure detached itself from the trees. It moved like liquid shadow, slithering across the ground to cover the unicorn's corpse and began to drink. The sight was so profoundly unnatural and horrifying that Draco's courage shattered. He screamed and fled, leaving Harry alone. Although they all eventually made it out of the Forest, the memory of that drinking shadow was now burned into Draco's mind.
"Solim, what was that thing?" Draco asked, his voice still unsteady as he finished his account. "I've never heard of any creature like it."
"You saw it drinking the unicorn's blood," Solim stated calmly. "And you know the consequence of consuming it, correct?"
"You mean... that shadow was a wizard?" Draco's eyes widened. It was the only logical conclusion. Magical creatures might kill unicorns, but they would never consume their blood. That was a uniquely wizardly act.
"But... to drink it directly..." Draco trailed off, horrified. The curse that came with such an act—a half-life, a cursed existence—was common knowledge. What kind of wizard would be so desperate?
"A half-life," Solim finished for him. "A brutal, cursed existence. Only a wizard with nothing left to lose would resort to such an extreme measure to cling to life."
"But why here? In the Forbidden Forest?" Draco asked, a new, more terrifying thought dawning.
"Unicorns aren't native only to this forest. If one needed their blood, the black market exists. Why take the risk of hunting under Dumbledore's very nose?" Solim paused, letting the question hang in the air. "Unless, of course, that wizard is already here. At Hogwarts, or very near it."
Draco's face went from pale to sheet-white. "You mean... that wizard is in the school?"
"It's the most logical conclusion, isn't it?" Solim replied coolly.
He knew the truth: Voldemort's state was so dire that he was forced to hunt unicorns to sustain his fragmented soul. Possessing Quirrell provided a vessel, but the unicorn's blood, funneled through that connection, was the only thing keeping the flicker of his life force alive, even as it cursed him.
"What a pitiful creature," Solim mused aloud.
"What?" Draco was baffled.
"Remember the 'year-end show' I mentioned?" Solim said, changing the subject. He planned to bring Neville and Draco to see it, and Evans too—observing such events was, after all, part of the man's job.
If Draco was frightened, Harry was utterly terrified.
The centaur, Firenze, had laid a chilling truth upon him: Voldemort, his parents' murderer, was not only alive but lurking in the Forest, regaining his strength. The Philosopher's Stone was the key to his full return.
Suddenly, final exams, House points, and even Quidditch seemed trivial. Harry's world had narrowed to a single, desperate goal: stop Snape from stealing the Stone. The alternative was unthinkable—Voldemort, restored to power.
He abandoned his revision, spending every spare moment watching Snape's movements. He convinced Ron and Hermione that the moment Dumbledore was lured away from Hogwarts, Snape would make his move. They had to be ready.
Ron, though visibly terrified, immediately pledged his help to his best friend. Hermione, however, was torn. For her, abandoning her meticulously planned revision schedule felt like a violation of her very nature. Yet, the stakes were higher than any exam. If Voldemort returned, the wizarding world would be plunged back into the bloody chaos she had read about. And as a Muggle-born witch, she would be among the first targets.
She decided she had to help. But their method was deeply flawed. Harry and Ron's track record of reckless, half-baked plans was abysmal. Protecting the Stone was too important to be left to their usual brand of chaos.
Moreover, even if Snape was the thief, Hermione knew they stood no chance against him. Her interactions with Solim had given her a healthy respect for Slytherin cunning and power. She had seen Snape's swift, precise magic firsthand in their small classroom. The three of them were children; he was a seasoned and powerful wizard.
As they stood in their usual disused classroom, Hermione came to a firm conclusion. If they were to have any hope of success, they couldn't do this alone. They needed help.